


Friends Don't Lie

by AGreySunset



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety Attacks, Awkward Romance, Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Child Abuse, Emotional Baggage, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, F/M, Flashbacks, Heavy Angst, Hurt/Comfort, One Shot, Panic Attacks, Physical Abuse, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Short One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-05
Updated: 2017-12-05
Packaged: 2019-02-10 11:01:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12910551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AGreySunset/pseuds/AGreySunset
Summary: "I... I'm sorry, Papa."I mean it, it isn't a lie to avoid punishment, demolishing the machine had been an accident.One of the scientists pick up the machine, carrying it away. A duo of guards step up, and I know I'm in trouble. I misbehaved, make a mistake, and now I have to deal with the consequences.(Mileven Angst/Comfort)





	Friends Don't Lie

There was a woman I had been trying to find.

She was tall, about two meters. She had dark, reddish brown skin and long, curly hair, pulled strictly in a ponytail. It was rather obident, only a few obsidian locks loose in a sea of jet. The hair paled at the end, dye lightning it to a rich amber-like dirty blonde. Her arms were layered, muscled, clothed fully in dark tattoos, abstract patterns in the ink. Her white tank top was stained, cut to show her midriff slightly, along with dark black jean shorts.

I had been, reluctantly, coerced into the sensory deprivation tank, since I didnt have much of a choice. Now, I float in the saltwater, trying to mute the rest of the world. Drown out the distractions. I was in the darkness, by myself, my dark, focused place when I heard it. It was undisturbed, my own place. It was nice, to have a place just for you. But to have that ability weaponized and stolen really soured it. Still, I searched, nose dyed red at the effort.

But, she had been slippery, just out of reach. My eyes flashed with her image, about to get her before she got away. This repeated, and I had been in there awhile, near, close to catching her, when it sounded. I was in the darkness, by myself, my dark, focused place when I heard it.

A high, screechy wail. It was not human, not by a long shot. It was like the whine, the whir of a machine. It was obnoxious, and it refused to cease. It was so loud, and had gone on for at least a minute when my will caved, and I gave up on the search. What was causing the sound? I could barely think straight with my ever growing migraine.

My head was pounding, beyond irritated by the sound. I clutched my skull, failing to relive the building pressure. The

Make it stop, make it stop, makeitstop, makeitstop, stop, pleasestop-

The loud hiss of live wires dying snapped me back to reality, to the bath. The metal tubes curled outside my dwelling, revealed by a cut-in-half invention. The metal looked like it had been pulled apart, by sheer force, something a human could never do. The sound abruptly ended, replaced by deafening silence.

I didn't mean to. I was trying my hardest. I wasn't trying to damage the equipment. I swear. 

The words, ones that might help me, or might hurt me, hover on my tounge. I want to hide behind syllables, hope I won't be punished, but Papa doesn't take well to excuses.

I look up slowly, wincing at his face. It's hard, stone carved into a displeased expression. He doesn't even try to mask his utter dissapointment. All he does is glower at me, and I fold into myself under his withering glare.

"I... I'm sorry, Papa." I mean it, it isn't a lie to avoid punishment, demolishing the machine had been an accident. 

One of the scientists pick up the machine, carrying it away. A duo of guards step up, and I know I'm in trouble. I misbehaved, make a mistake, and now I have to deal with the consequences.

"Please, Papa. I'm sorry, I am sorry! Papa!" He turns his back on me, his long coat swirling behind me. His thick, black boots click on the floor, slowly getting quieter. My captors forcefully takes my hand, and I thrash out, hitting him in the nose. The other one whips out a stun while the former stumbles around.

I go limp, even I can't beat two men with an assortment of weapons meant to subdues me. They pick me up, one gripping each arm, as I slide, dragged across the floor. The position hurts, but it's nothing compared to my punishment, the one that will be swiftly delivered.

That will be pain.

....

The memory fades away, reality slowly seeping back to me.

I lie still, wishing my thoughts to end. I'm breathing hard, curled up in a ball. Panic burns my veins, hot tears sting my cheeks, and I realize it's freezing in my bed room.

Outside, a door closes and my heart gains motivation, beating fiercely.

Mike's home...

I don't want him to see me like this, and I rush to stand up, ignoring my lightheadedness. Wiping away tearstains, I slam the window shut, cutting of that chilly neither autumn nor winter breeze.

The light cream door opens gently, and Mike peeks in, his chocolate brown hair a mess. He stops, a look of concern on his face.

I've been found.

He walks in, carefully, as if literally walking on eggshells. His jacket is placed gracelessly on the desk and he sits on the anchient bed, and I walk to join him. Springs creaking, I perch myself on to the bed, the yellowed, frayed mattress sagging under our combined weight. My companion looks at me, shyly holding my hand. His skin is tanner than mine, hands soft and cared for. Mine are worn, foldy, wrinkly lines and pale scars cover them. My frosty, clammy fingers wrap around his own, warm, dry digits.

"What's wrong, El?" He whispers softly. I pull my knees to my chest, avoiding his gentle gaze. One of my hands plays with a frayed thread on the corner of my sheet, thin, curly string defying gravity, standing tall. It wraps itself around my finger, breaking from the matress, and I try hard not to drop it, hard when you're hands are shaking.

"I'm f-" I start to answer, working to keep my voice steady, but he gives me a slight glare.

"You've been crying, you aren't fine." His voice is slightly harsh, reprimanding. I flinch slightly, guilt for lying stacking up quickly. "It's... That's okay, you know." His previous gruff is replaced by a quiet whisper, after my flinch dragged him back to reality, calmed him.

"What's okay?" My voice is high and shaky, proof I had been crying, that I was upset.

"That you aren't. It isn't good, but you don't have to hide it. You don't have to lie." 

He leans up against me, reaching over to grab a checkered, green and blue, thick blanket. 

Wrapping the blanket around our shoulders, our hand stay locked, like a lock without a key. We sit there, warm under the smothering fabric and silent in the perfumed, stuffy room. It always got like this in early winter, divided between fresh air from open windows and warmth from closed ones. I wait until I stop sniffling enough to add to his sentence. To finish it, really.

"Friends don't lie."

**Author's Note:**

> I'M SO MEAN TO MY BABIES.
> 
> Seriously though, I have unhealthy obseesions with these's characters...
> 
> If I spelled something wrong, or had an incorrect fact, feel free to tell me. Constructive critiscism only, please.


End file.
